Pretty Little Thing
by AMKelley
Summary: *For Fireball-Fuchsia* Crane manages to escape Arkham Asylum but he's quickly found by the police. They handcuff him and are about to take him back to prison when they bump into Bane. *PWP, AU, sexual content, dubious consent, rough sex, wall sex, handcuffs, oral sex, facial, minor character deaths, hair pulling*


His escape plan was going so well up until the precise moment it wasn't. It's not like it was Crane's first time escaping, he's escaped plenty of times with little success, but this was the farthest he's ever gotten. If only he had his mask and fear gas with him, then this escape would've been genius, but the circumstances hadn't been in his favor when he broke out of Arkham Asylum.

He didn't even have time to change into his own clothes, forcing him to wear the mandatory uniform all patients wore until he could make it to a safe house. Crane must have been a sight running like a maniac down the neon streets of Gotham with the police close in pursuit. He could see the flashing lights of blue and red bouncing off the buildings coming closer, prompting Crane to make a slight detour.

Crane was able to get two miles down the road before the police caught up with him and cornered him in an alley. Crane reached the dead end, stomping his foot and pushing against the wall in frustration. There wasn't much else he could do besides give up like he has on many occasions and failed attempts.

Crane drops his head back to stare up the length of the big brick building blocking his almost great escape. He sighs heavily and turns back toward the police cruiser where two rather rough-looking officers are climbing out of before walking down the alley. He's ran into these two before, Crane notices, and waits for them to make their way down the alley towards him.

"Alright, Dr. Crane. You know the drill," one officer called out with a bored tone. "I want you to put your hands behind your head and get down on the ground."

"I'm sorry officer, but Dr. Crane isn't here right now. If you'd like to leave a message I'd be glad to pass on the memo," Crane wittingly remarks like he usually does when he's caught.

The officer looks over to his partner, who just rolls his eyes, and strides over towards the criminal. Crane never gets a gun pulled on him because the police know that he isn't physically violent and lacks the finesse for hand to hand combat. He's useless without his special noxious gases and right now Crane is about as threatening as a teacher on Saturday.

When the officer finally reaches Crane he lets his partner hang back a little just in case Crane has something up his sleeve. The cop grabs Crane roughly by the arm and pushes him face first into an adjacent brick wall while twisting his arms behind his back in the process. Crane makes a small grunt from the rough handling, mostly out of spite, and lets the officer slap handcuffs on him without a struggle.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" The cop murmurs into his ear, yanking him back by the handcuffs roughly. The officer is close, almost intimately so. "It's like you get off on getting caught and handcuffed. Is that it?"

Crane is gripped just underneath the jaw, forcing his head back slightly. The officer presses up against him intimately enough for Crane to feel the contours of his body. It isn't the first time an officer of the law has tried something with Crane and it wouldn't be the last. Gotham knew no innocence. Not even the police force. Everyone was guilty of something or another.

"You don't have to be shy, doctor," the cop whispers, attempting to grind against Crane.

"Oh, please..." Crane scoffs, looking over his shoulder at the officer who's on the verge of sexually assaulting him. "You're not my type."

"Foyle, leave the pretty boy alone," his partner calls out before it can escalate further. He puts his hands on his hips and shifts his posture slightly to convey his irritation. "Let's get this trash back to Arkham."

"To be continued, sweetheart," Foyle says, letting go of of Crane's jaw.

The officer known as Foyle concedes with his little taunt and lets up on Crane so he can drag him back to the cruiser. The doctor takes his time, walking leisurely, but is pushed and nudged down the alley towards the flashing lights instead as Foyle and his partner exchange words about protocol. That's when the shit hits the fan.

There's a man standing just before the police cruiser, unmoving as the headlights illuminate his imposing silhouette. Crane stops dead in his tracks, smiling even as the cops behind him start to take notice as well. They both step out in front of Crane, pushing him aside and out of the way to deal with the threat at hand. Crane can see the officers resting their hands on their gun belt as if they're ready to draw at the drop of a hat.

"May we help you, sir?" Foyle's partner asks, squinting past the bright headlights to focus on the man's face.

"I am afraid it is you who needs help," the figure informs in an odd twang.

"We're going to need you to step aside now, sir."

He doesn't move from his position at this order and instead takes a step forward, prompting the officers to draw their guns on him. Crane takes this as an opportunity to back up a little as the situation escalates beyond the police's jurisdiction. It seems this particular neighborhood is protected by Gotham's reckoning and the police aren't even aware of just who the man is. Crane isn't sure who the man is either just yet.

"This is your last chance to step away from the vehicle, sir," Foyle issues this time, hands shaking slightly to grip his pistol. The sheer size of the man is enough to make even Gotham's finest nervous.

"Or what? Will you respond with violence?" The hulking man implores, stepping forward even more. "Or shall I remind you who this neighborhood belongs to?"

Foyle and his partner attempt to raise their guns for a wounding shot, or even a kill shot, but they never make it that far. Before Crane can finish blinking, Foyle is face down on the ground because, to be fair, his face was now pointing the wrong way. The headlights light up the struggle between the big man and Foyle's partner, illuminating the man's face long enough for Crane to notice the mask he wore.

During the midst of the commotion and fighting, Crane stumbled backwards and fell on his ass with a grunt. The other cop made one last gasping choke before dropping right in front of Crane, making the doctor flinch by reflex. Crane slowly looked up at the giant of a man and he knew who he was. Though, he'd never seen him in the flesh until now. Only rumors around Arkham.

He called himself Bane and, just like Crane himself, he was affiliated with Ra's Al Ghul. Crane's heard stories, like anyone else in the underworld has, but he never thought them to be as true as they were. He didn't know what gave it away first, the brute strength or the mask. Either way, Bane was real and Foyle and his partner were really dead. Crane was home free.

Crane lets the thought slip away when he notices Bane walking away from the two officers he just murdered. Crane panics for a brief second when he realizes his hands are still handcuffed behind his back and he tests their strength by twisting against them. Even if he was able to find the keys on officer Foyle he'd still need help getting free from them.

"Hey, wait a minute! A little help here!" Crane calls after him, trying to get his feet underneath him again. Bane doesn't stop or turn around until- "Bane!"

Bane stops and stands there for a moment before facing the owner of the voice who called him by name. His gaze comes to rest on a young man clothed in the traditional Arkham patient uniform, telling him everything he needs to know about the man right then and there. Bane, however, didn't pick up on Crane's breathtaking beauty until he stepped a little closer.

The headlights were bright enough to highlight just how blue Crane's eyes were and the police lights danced across his prominent cheekbones just right. Bane really hadn't noticed Crane's presence but now that he was aware he couldn't look away from the other criminal. Bane walked around the dead officer and loomed over Crane as the latter stared up at him with his bright blue eyes. Bane looks down at Crane with an unreadable glint in his eye.

"I'm Dr. Jonathan Crane," he introduces when Bane doesn't say anything. He fidgets slightly under his scrutiny, feeling even smaller. "That was quite a number you did on them. Couldn't have done better myself."

"You flatter me because you need something, yes?" Bane observes bluntly.

"It's seems I find myself in quite a predicament. You see, it's these damn handcuffs..." Crane trails off, struggling a little to give Bane an example.

"Like a fox caught in a snare," Bane comments with some humor.

Bane grabs Crane under his arm and hauls him up on his feet in one swift movement, taking the doctor by surprise. He's pushed into the brick wall like Foyle had done to him earlier but instead his back is against the grimy wall. Crane isn't sure whether this is done to elicit fear or if Bane just wants to get a better look at him.

"I suppose you'd like to have those cuffs taken off, wouldn't you?" Bane inquires, tilting his head slightly as if he's curious.

"It would help," Crane says, unconsciously batting his lashes. Mostly out of nervousness.

"I shall set you free, Crane," Bane vows.

A wave of relief befalls over Crane and he's able to relax, if only for a brief second. Bane grabs him roughly by the arm and spins him around so that he's face first into the filthy wall with his cheek mashing up against the brick. Crane is taken aback by the sudden movement , especially when Bane grabs ahold of his hips to press his groin against his rear end. Crane can feel himself start to blush at the implication.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" Crane asks skeptically, flustered when he feels Bane's arousal prodding him through layers of clothing.

"It would be a shame to let a pretty little thing like you go before properly breaking you in first," Bane tells him, hinting at something sexual.

The doctor doesn't have time to respond because he can't. All the words he planned to say had seized up in his vocal chords when Bane's large hands yanked down his pants, exposing his rear end. The night air prickles along his exposed thighs, sending a shiver down Crane's spine as Bane admires the pale narrow hips jutting out towards him. Bane wishes he could strip Crane bare so he can feast his eyes on his undoubtedly slender back, but that would require unlocking the handcuffs.

"Beautiful and feminine. Like a woman," Bane regards. He runs two fingers between Crane's thighs and all the way up, eliciting a gasp from the slight man. "And well kept. It's seems Gotham hasn't spoiled you yet."

Crane shudders at the inclination, knowing that Bane was about to change that. It seems Crane had dodged a bullet with Foyle only to be taken by Gotham's reckoning instead and, oddly enough, Crane preferred this version. Bane grabs him by the hips and pulls his lower half out more while pushing him into the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades.

The right side of Crane's face and chest, as well as his right shoulder, are pressed uncomfortably into the brick wall. Crane wishes now that his hands would've been handcuffed in front of him just so he could brace them against the wall for some leverage, but Bane could care less about his comfort. Crane can hear the telltale sound of a zipper and button and he tries looking back at Bane but his body is twisted in such a way that he can't.

Bane is flushed and hard, leaning in slightly so he can rub himself against Crane teasingly. The head of his cock is wet with copious amounts of pre come and, thankfully, it's almost enough to slicken Crane's entrance a little before Bane presses more firmly against him. Bane grips the base of his cock and rubs it over Crane's hole a few times before attempting to breach the muscle with one solid push.

Unprepared, Crane calls out as the breath and will power is taken from him. Bane pushes in jaggedly, stopping only when he's finally bottomed out within Crane's tight passage. Crane is gasping and shaking from the strain and physically pain he's enduring, knowing that something has to be damaged down there without the proper preparation. His legs are trembling to hold him up and his hole throb painfully around Bane's cock but, fuck, is it worth it.

Everything hurts. His cheek, chest, shoulder, legs, arms, wrists... Crane's whole body is on fire and he tries to stifle his moans when Bane starts to pull out of his abused hole, only to push back in. Crane can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and a warmth pooling down between his thighs, figuring it to be blood more than arousal. Though, he is quite aroused as well. He can feel his cock bobbing with each thrust between his legs.

Bane grabs the chain connecting the handcuffs and pulls back on them, bowing Crane's slender body back even more. That's when Bane really starts to give it to him with nothing held back. Each thrust of Bane's cock sends little pinpricks of shock throughout his nerves as well as bouts of immense pleasure. Crane never considered himself to be a masochist, but the pain he was feeling was glorious.

He can hear Bane make soft grunts behind his mask, seeming to be satisfied enough to keep going. As his hole becomes more accustomed to the invasion, Crane can feel his entrance becoming more slick with every thrust inward. Must be the blood, Crane ponders avidly just before the first stirrings of his orgasm take over him in the best way possible.

Bane's thrusts are nudging in the right direction, making Crane's orgasm easy to reach without the luxury of touching himself. The pain mingled with blood and pleasure is enough to send Crane past the threshold and then some. The shockwave of every thrust drives Crane further into the wall and further into his impending release until, finally, he comes. He lets out a wail of completion, moaning excessively and painting the dirty brick wall with white.

He isn't sure if Bane's cock throbs at the noises he makes or if it's just his sensitive hole, but damn is it perfection. Bane thrusts a few more times into Crane, drawing out the doctor's orgasm before his tense muscles constrict Bane to the point where it hurts both of them. He pulls out of Crane only to spin the slight man around and force him to his knees in front of him. Crane, flushed and damp with subsiding arousal, looks up at Bane dubiously, awaiting further instruction.

"Make me come all over that pretty face," Bane orders, stroking a thumb across Crane's cheekbone to wipe away a tear.

Crane complies to the order without hesitation, leaning forward to take him into his mouth the best he could. Blood is the first thing Crane tastes followed by the salty tang of pre come flowing freely. Bane is throbbing against the flat of his tongue and, christ, does he feel huge within Crane's mouth. Crane starts to suck in earnest, tasting his own blood mixed with Bane's own secretions.

Bane reaches down and grabs a handful of Crane's hair, pulling it harshly and manipulating the pace. Bane is thrusting his cock deep into Crane's throat, making him gag and his eyes water. He fucks the doctor's throat roughly, forcing Crane to take all of him without protest. Crane twists against the handcuffs, knowing he'll have plenty of marks and bruises by tomorrow. Crane looks up at Bane with shimmering wet pools of bright blue that are hooded with hurt and excitement all at once.

Bane gets lost in the pitiful expression on Crane's face and offers a deep grunt of approval. His saliva slick cock pulses inside of Crane's mouth and he comes, yanking on Crane's hair to drive him down the full length of his cock. Crane chokes as a result until Bane pulls him off so he can come across Crane's cheekbones and pink lips. Crane gasps for air long enough to catch some of Bane's release on his tongue.

His hair is let go with a rough shove and Crane is left kneeling on the filthy and unforgiving ground of the alley. He watches as Bane puts himself away and walks over to Foyle to retrieve a set of keys to set Crane free. Bane drags him to his feet once again and turns him around, unlocking the handcuffs swiftly like he promised Crane earlier. Crane immediately sighs with relief and goes to knead his bruising wrists tenderly. He must look a sight right now with his face covered in come and the bitter taste of it mixed with blood on his lips.

"You're free to go now, doctor," Bane says, making a gesture with his hand as he starts to walk away. "Or if you feel so inclined, you may follow."

Crane pulls his pants up and looks down at the dead officers lying motionlessly on the ground and wipes his face off with his sleeves. He looks after Bane who is slowly making his departure. He knows what Bane is capable of and he knows better than to get on the man's bad side. Bane was offering him an invitation to be a part of the upcoming revolution and Crane would be crazy to follow the hulking man.

Then again, with all things considered, he'd be crazy not to.


End file.
